Easter at Gull's Way
by khollie
Summary: Easter is a time of miracles for all of us.


Easter at Gull's Way

"You said what?!" Hardcastle roared. He stood up from behind his desk and glared at the young man sitting in the easy chair across the room.

Mark looked at the older man without a trace of regret. "I told Sue and Nancy that you would be happy to have the kids do their Easter Egg hunt here this year. They need a place to go since the school is undergoing all that new construction. The playground is shot. Coming here gives the kids a safe environment to play in for a couple of hours." Mark fought to keep the grin off his face.

"What makes you think that I want a bunch of snot nosed brats running around my house?"

"These are the kids from the blind school. The one "you" helped find funding for last year." Mark grinned at last. "They don't have a place to go for the kindergartners to have their party and hunt Easter eggs. You don't have to do anything. Nancy said the parents will do all the set up and clean up, including mowing the section of yard if you want. We can have them use the west side. It's away from the pool and there will be enough adults to keep the kids away from the cliff. With the fencing, they can't get lost or get hurt."

The judge tried to get up his frustration, knowing all along that Mark was right. "Whose gonna hide the eggs, and whose gonna clean up the mess?"

"Will you quit complaining? The volunteers will take care of everything. You don't even have to be here. I know you're not into all that holiday stuff anyway. Waste of time, right?" Mark played his trump card. "Besides, Judge. I've never hunted Easter eggs before. Mom would go to Mass, but she always had to work. I never got to go to the parties."

Hardcastle sat back down and stroked his chin thoughtfully. He knew he was being played. "You never got to hunt for eggs? Easter was my wife's favorite holiday. Always said it was time for renewal. All the bad stuff went away and you got to start with a clean slate. She would throw the biggest parties for our son and his friends. Hell, there's still probably eggs out there that have never been found."

"Alright!" Mark knew the battle was won. Hardcastle might be called "Hardcase" but Mark knew the old man was a sucker for lost causes, after all, he took in one errant race car driver and gave him a home, didn't he?

"When is this party supposed to happen?" the judge asked, opening his date book on the desk.

"It's next Sunday. Since they aren't having it at the school, Sue decided that the kids and their parents could get together on Easter Sunday. That gives me enough time to really get the lawn in shape. The Wainsfield file can wait that long, can't it?"

"Yeah, go call Nancy. She and the kids can come over, but they're cleaning up the mess, ya hear. And tell 'em not to let those kids tear up my rose bushes. Took me forever to get this place looking good." Mark left to the sound of Judge "Hardcase" Hardcastle planning a children's Easter party.

By the time Easter Sunday rolled around, the grounds of Gull's Way were manicured to perfection. Mark had put in extra time filling in gopher holes and installing brick borders on the flower beds. He wanted to make sure that the kids wouldn't hurt themselves by accident. The first of the parent volunteers had arrived and Milt was showing them the west side of the lawn. Hardcastle had brought in tables and chairs from friends at the police station and now the volunteers were hiding the eggs they had brought.

"Just how in the world is a blind kid supposed to be able to hunt for an egg anyway?" he wondered aloud.

"With this." A middle aged man held up one of the eggs. It was emitting a small beeping sound. "Each egg has been fitted with a beeper. The children have to listen for the sound and follow it to it's source. The eggs are also coated with a textured paint to help the children distinguish it from a stone."

"Mighty fancy Easter eggs." Hardcastle observed.

"These are mighty fancy children." the man answered. He stuck out his hand.

"Ralph Mizzo. My daughter Elyssa is one of the children. She was thrilled that the party was going to happen. You are a very generous man to open up your home like this."

Hardcastle shrugged. "This is a big place. Gotta share it with someone sometimes." He looked up. "More company for the party. I"ll talk to ya later." He moved off to greet the next group of parents and children.

He found Mark already there helping direct mothers and children to the west lawn. Mark's face was aglow with the childish energy that Hardcastle knew so well. After two years of working together, the judge had seen that glow a thousand times and was still amazed that the young man could still find so much joy in life. He knew that Mark McCormick's life had been anything but easy, but tragedy had not overtaken Mark's nature. Watching his young charge now, Hardcastle hoped that Mark never lost that little boy sense of wonder.

An hour later, the party was in full swing. The yard was full of eighteen little boys and girls happily eating cake and getting their pictures taken with the giant pink Easter Bunny that had shown up unexpectedly, courtesy of the local police department. A young woman stood up and clapped her hands for attention. "Okay, all. It's time to hunt! Do you all have your baskets? There are plenty of eggs for everyone. All of them have candy in them, and a few have prizes. Grab your buddy, grab your basket and go to it!" She moved out of the way as all eighteen kids moved quickly away from the tables and onto the broad lawn.

Mark sat at the last table slowly finishing a piece of cake and grinning broadly. He had been watching Hardcastle move from group to group dishing out cake, pouring punch, and shaking hands with the bunny, whom Mark was sure was a buddy of Frank's. Mark had been worried about his mentor, had seen the signs of loneliness and depression that any holiday seemed to bring. A quick call to the school had given him the idea for the party.

He and Hardcastle had met the two teachers, Nancy and Sue, about a year earlier during one of their cases. The granddaughter of an accountant they were chasing was a pupil at the school. When they had confronted the man, not only had he given them the evidence they needed to put away a major drug runner, he had told them that he was skimming profits off the top to help finance the school. In return for helping Hardcastle, the man had asked for help finding legitimate sources of funding for the private school. Hardcastle had agreed, Frank arrested the drug runner, and their source had died of cancer six months later. Hardcastle had been true to his word and found a stable source of funding by convincing several of his retired friends to set up a trust fund for the school, funded by donations from the police department, the law clinics in town, and the law school at the university.

While Mark was musing, he noticed an older boy sitting on the far side of the eating area. He was older than the other children and had on dark glasses. He was only playing with his food. The cap he wore bore a racing logo that Mark recognized. Mark got up, refilled his cup, and moved over to sit beside the young man.

"Is this seat taken?"

The boy looked up at him. "Nope."

Mark sat down. "How come you're not out there?"

The boy gave him a look of disdain. "I'm in the fifth grade. I don't hunt eggs with no babies."

"I see." Mark thought for a moment. "Then why are you here?"

The boy waved a hand in the direction of the noise. "My little brother is out there. Dad had to work today, so I came with Mom and Brad. If nothing else, I get a lot of candy out of the deal."

Mark was intrigued at the boy's point of view. He held out his hand, forgetting that the child couldn't see. "My name's Mark."

"I'm Mark, Mark Brewers." An impish grin lit up the boy's face. "Do you like racing?"

Mark dropped his hand, and his jaw. "You like racing?" A note of incredulity made his voice rise.

"You bet! Before I got hurt, Dad would take me to the races. We even got to meet this guy who had his own racing team. He told me that he was designing a car of his very own. He even said that when I got old enough, he'd put me on his pit crew and maybe teach me how to race!" The boy's face fell. "He died though."

Mark felt a pang of familiar hurt go through him. "What happened?"

"It was a couple of years ago. Some car wreck. See right after we met him. I wrote to him a lot and he'd write back. He even came to see me in the hospital after the accident, that's when I went blind. Then Dad read in the papers that Mr. Johnson had died." Young Mark couldn't see McCormick's face blanch white but he could hear the change in breathing.

"Are you okay? Do I need to get someone?"

McCormick fought for control. "You said, Mr. Johnson. What was his first name?"

"Flip, at least that's what he told me it was." Mark was puzzled. "He said I reminded him of a racer he knew."

McCormick's world was reeling. "You're not gonna believe this, Flip Johnson was my best friend. He got me started in racing, coached me, he was like a father to me." McCormick ran both hands down his face. "He never told me about you."

"Are you the one he was waiting on to get out of jail?"

McCormick look warily at the youngster. "That's me."

"Wow! Did Flip ever build it? The Coyote? He told me all about it and even showed me some sketches he had made. He said it was being built and that a friend of his was gonna drive it when he got out of jail." Mark had turned sideways in his seat and was leaning toward his new friend.

McCormick leaned forward conspiratorially, "Yeah he built it. And after he died, I got it. It's in the garage now. You wanna see it?" Then his face fell. "Or whatever." he added lamely.

"Don't worry. I'll be able to see it with my hands. If you'll let me touch it." Mark's enthusiasm wasn't diminished at all. "I just have to tell my mom where I am."

"Well, let's go tell her." McCormick stood up quickly and cleared a path for young Mark. "How're you gonna find her in this?" Mark meant the noise and gaggle of scrambling children.

"No problem. Hey Mom!" Mark yelled at the top of his voice.

McCormick grinned as an older woman with a weary face parted from the crowd and made her way to the eating area. "What is it, Mark?"

"Mom! Guess what! This is Mark and he's a race car driver and he knew Mr. Johnson and he's gonna show me the Coyote and..."

Mom put her hand over her son's mouth. "Slow down, Mark. One at a time."

"Let me explain." McCormick took over. "My name is Mark McCormick. I live here with Judge Hardcastle. I used to be in racing and Flip Johnson was my best friend. After his death, his daughter gave me the race car that Flip had designed. I told Mark here that I would take him to see it. It's in the garage right over there. Is that okay with you?"

Mark couldn't see the tears that shone in his mother's eyes, but he could hear them in her voice as she answered. "Of course it's okay. I'm glad you found someone to talk to about racing."

It was hard for her to decide just who was more excited, her ten year old son Mark or the thirty year old man Mark as the two bade her goodby and headed for the garage. She was standing there, thinking sad thoughts when she became aware of a presence at her side. She looked up to see an older gentleman standing beside her.

"Mark's a good kid. He'll take care of him."

She grinned as she wiped at her eyes. "But which Mark will take of the other Mark?" She held out her hand. "Liz Brewers. Mark is my son."

"Milt Hardcastle. Mark is my friend. He lives in the gatehouse over there, does my yardwork and other odd jobs."

"I gathered that. Sue said that it was your idea to hold the party here. All of us thank you very much." Liz said as she led the way over to a couple of chairs.

"It was Mark's idea. Kid loves sappy holidays. I don't think he ever got enough of them as a kid." Hardcastle took a drink of the punch he was holding.

"I haven't seen my Mark that excited about anything since he lost his sight about a year ago. He used to talk about racing and becoming a member of the pit crew. He didn't want to race, he was more excited about the cars themselves. I think he gave up that dream after the accident."

Never one to dance around an issue, Hardcastle asked bluntly, "What happened?"

Liz's voice got very soft. "He was riding his bike home from school one day. A car hit him. The driver was an old man who had a heart attack while he was driving. He didn't live and we didn't think Mark would either." Liz forced herself to look up and sat up straighter. "But he did and now he goes to the same school his little brother goes to. They've become a lot closer, but I still see anger and depression in Mark. I don't know if that will ever go away."

"A little time, a lot of understanding, it might." Hardcastle assured her. The two stood together as they watched both Marks make their way down to the garage.

Once in the garage, McCormick wasted no time in telling Mark all about his friend Flip Johnson and his racing career. He told Mark the whole story about Flip's death and the race to find Martin Cody.

"Cool! How fast did you have to drive to get back to LA?"

"Fast enough." McCormick said wryly.

"Have you ever gotten to race again since you got out of jail?"

"A few times. My main job though right now is to help out Judge Hardcastle. I do all the work on the grounds and the pool here and help him in his work."

"So he likes to play detective like those guys on TV and arrest the ones who need it, right?" Mark asked, climbing into the driver's seat of the Coyote.

"You got it. He's very proud of being a judge and wants to make sure that the ones who deserve it, pay for their crimes." McCormick chuckled. "Wait till you hear about the time..."

He was interrupted as Hardcastle and Mrs. Brewer walked into the garage. "How are you kids doing?" Hardcastle asked loudly.

"Oh man! Judge, this kid knows engines better than a lot of guys I know. You know he can hear the difference when just one spark plug is off? Any pit crew would be happy to have him on the team. Just think of the time they could save with a guy who could listen to an engine and tell you what's wrong." McCormick could see Mark beaming with pride. "And details, he found the places on the Coyote where Flip changed some of the initial designs. Even I didn't know about those."

Mark spoke up next. "Mom, do you think that a blind kid can still study engineering and design engines?"

"I don't see why not." Hardcastle was quick to say.

Mrs. Brewer's face was filled with joy. Her son sounded like he had finally found a purpose in life again. "I've always told you that you can do anything you want. You know how much time you and your dad spend on that old clunker of mine." She turned to McCormick. "Could I have a word with you for a second please?"

Bewildered, McCormick just nodded his head and led the way outside.

"I just wanted to thank you. Ever since Mark's accident, he has been angry and depressed thinking that he had no chance to ever do what a normal person does. You gave him that back. I'll remember you as his personal Easter miracle." Liz gave the startled young man a hug and a quick kiss before heading back into the garage.

Mark was still standing there as Hardcastle came out. "You did good, kid. Liz says that Mark is talking about going to college now. I'm proud of you."

"Judge, she said that I was Mark's Easter miracle. Do you believe in miracles?"

"I believe that Easter is a time for us to make changes, find a new way, get a new start. Some people call it time for renewal, my wife called it the season of miracles." Hardcastle sighed, "Maybe this was your Easter present from someone up there. Happy Easter, Mark."


End file.
